I had a maddening mommy moment today.

Yesterday another mom texted me to verify that it was “feast” day (where the parents all bring a food item so the kids can have a special lunch party and we don’t have to pack our kids a lunch) at the preschool because she didn’t make her son a lunch. I told her it wasn’t until Wednesday and Thursday, so she had to scramble to catch her hubby at home so he could pack a lunch for their kid.

So I get to the school today, confident in my knowledge that it is feast day, with no lunch packed for Fussypants and overhear one of the teachers telling another parent that it’s not a “feast” party it’s a “snack” party.

WTF?

So I say,” Really? Because that wasn’t my understanding and I know another mom who didn’t pack her son a lunch either” (but she hadn’t brought her kid to school yet so I had no back up). And the teacher says in the most condescending way, “If you didn’t need to bring Fussypants a lunch, then we would have put up a note”.

Well la-de-da and FU too. By the way, I only thought that, I didn’t say it. It’s a Christian preschool so I kept my mouth shut. For once.

Now out of the three teachers in my son’s room, she is my least favorite. We’ve just never made a connection, probably because she doesn’t engage and is more like a greeter than a teacher, “Hi, have a nice day, see you tomorrow” is really the most I ever hear from her. She never talks to me about my son, like the other two teachers do. And when I ask her questions about him she answers in really short sentences. It’s painful.

So now I’m really ticked off. One of my main duties as a parent is to make sure my child is fed and he has no flipping lunch. And the teacher made me feel like an a-hole for not knowing.

I’m already late for work but I race to the store to buy him lunchables and apples and a drink. I also bought a bag of frozen peas to keep it all cold because there is no fridge (and made a mental note to let Fussypants know he didn’t have to eat those for lunch – because he would have had a fit if he thought he had to eat an entire bag of peas). And a bottle of wine. For me. For later.

As I’m paying, the check-out kid cards me. Which gets my attention. Because I’m 41. And stressed. Which adds years to your face.

When he looked at my ID, he says, “Wow, you don’t look anywhere near 41″.

Bonus. Even though life had given me lemons that morning, my day got a little better. Just like that.

Sometimes, it’s all about making lemonade.